I got up this morning as usual at 6:30 – no alarm clock – this is when I take Angel out for her morning pee. Then it hit me, a blow to the heart. She wasn’t there. No stretching and shaking and preceding me down the hallway to the stairs, eager to start the day. No lick for my hand when I attach the leash to her collar.
Yesterday we had helped her over the rainbow bridge, as they say.
Our constant companion for the past seventeen years, our little feisty girl had needed help as her heart slowly gave out. Her walks got shorter and shorter, her naps longer and longer, and when she tried to follow me upstairs, she would faint from the exertion.
Angel was always up for something new – a walk, a ride in the car, a trip to get her nails trimmed, an introduction to other dogs. She never met another dog she didn’t like. She was our house alarm, alerting us to anyone or anything that shouldn’t be in our yard. The house is so quiet now!
And with the death of our second dog, Rock, I became her alpha, her anchor. She followed me everywhere and greeted me when I came home with joy and jumping, even if I was gone for only an hour. During our recent trip to Europe, she spent every day by the door, waiting for me, according to my daughter.
This is so very hard for me to write, but I need to do something to mark her passing. Angel was a huge part of our lives, loyal, energetic, funny, loving. I miss her acutely and always will. A part of my heart is gone.